|
|
|
|
Die
I bleed into the
fountain,
And watch the
water turn,
An almost golden
crimson,
As I watch the
fresh cut burn.
My eyes deceived
me,
My mouth went
dry,
My life has
ended,
I'd been left to
die.
All poems on this site are copyright to their writer, "Poetic745" and "Artemis745".
bravenet.com